Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
She’s too perfect. I want to reach out, grab that image, and grasp it in a fist like I used to catch fireflies when I was a kid. Back then, I’d let those little insects go to watch their light disappear in the darkness of the woods where I was camping with my friends.
Now, I don’t want to let go. Ever. I want to cling to the memory of how she looks today so badly that I risk snuffing the life right out of it and snapping every bone in my fingers. Because today marks a huge milestone—the achievement of everything I set out to do. It’s the beginning of the end for Leander Teszner and only the start of us. No matter how it came about, they’re my family, she and Noah, and nothing can change that for all eternity. My name will be carved into their gravestones. We’ll be connected in the afterlife, in history, and into forever.
A hundred years from now, someone may stand in front of those graves and wonder who those people were. Our memories may be long forgotten. But everyone will know Tatiana was a Morici, that she was my wife, mine to protect and provide for, and that Noah was our son.
The thought of being bound together in this life and the next brings me a measure of peace. I twist the ring Tatiana gave me for my birthday around the L of Lee’s name that’s tattooed on my finger. I put the first letter of his name right there, under her ring, so it could remind me every day what I was fighting for. What I’m living for.
It’s a handsome ring. A coil of silver rope runs around the middle, flanked by iron bands. The gesture was sweet at the time. I wonder if she knew how symbolic that rope would become. It’s tied around her neck like a noose now, barely allowing her space to breathe. She’s my prisoner in every way that matters, chained to my bed and tied to me by blood. Soon, she’ll be locked up in my house. I’ll put a ring on her finger, one I won’t allow her to take off. And then I’ll give her my surname before putting another baby inside her.
All she has to do is let go. The more she fights, the tighter that noose will pull around her neck. It’ll keep on shrinking until it strangles her, and despite what she may think, I never wanted her to be miserable. I much rather prefer her to be happy.
Reino, in his warped sense of romanticism, left a demi bottle of champagne and two glasses in the cupholders of the console between the backseats. The celebratory drink he smuggled into the car before we left my office only serves as a joke to mock us.
Taking a napkin from the console, I hand it to Tatiana.
She accepts it without wiping her eyes.
I hate her tears. I hate what they signify—how little she wants to have anything to do with me, let alone marry me.
Too bad.
She’s already had my baby. I didn’t do things in the proper order, but I will put an order to them, come hell or high water. I will claim what’s mine, and I will make that official in every way.
When Reino pulls through the gates of my property, Tatiana’s eyes are at long last dry, but they’re not less haunted or melancholic.
She stares at the double-story house through her window. “Where are we?”
“At my place.”
She looks at me quickly. “I thought you lived at the condo.”
“Only when I work from the office and stay late.”
Reino brings the car to a stop in the circular driveway. He gets my door. One of the guards on duty opens Tatiana’s door.
She steps out, craning her neck to study the black façade with accent walls of volcanic rock. The glass walls on the ground and first levels let in plenty of light. The interior is spacious and uncluttered.
She’s so busy taking in the environment that she doesn’t object when I take her elbow. She follows me down the gravel path with the grey slate stepping stones that leads through black marble ponds and modern water features. Footlights illuminate the path and sculptured Bonsai trees. A Japanese Maple tree stands in the center of the rock garden, the vibrant red leaves alight and blazing in the setting sun.
The ponds are shallow, but the lap pool is deep.
“Can Noah swim?”
She frowns.
“If not, I want him to take swimming lessons.”
Her back snaps into a straight line. “He could swim before he could walk.” She adds with a bite in her tone, “The motels where we lived weren’t much, but they had pools, Dante.”
“I don’t want to take a risk. The pool in the backyard isn’t fenced, but I’ll rectify that tomorrow still.”